


Papa!

by hearmyvoice



Series: Me Kin: Team Uncle Week [1]
Category: Disney Duck Universe, Disney Ducks (Comics)
Genre: Baby Donald Duck, F/M, Family, Family Fluff, Fluff, Gen, Parent Scrooge McDuck, Team Uncle Week
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-11
Updated: 2019-08-11
Packaged: 2020-08-19 08:42:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,287
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20206915
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hearmyvoice/pseuds/hearmyvoice
Summary: Without realizing it, Scrooge takes an important role in Donald's life.





	Papa!

**Author's Note:**

> **day 1.** domestic life / parenting.

Initially, Scrooge had seen it as a complicated task.

He did not consider himself good with children unlike his sisters, so it took him off guard when Hortense confided Donald while she and Quackmore took Della to the pediatrician after falling ill.

Matilda was in Scotland, but Elvira was on the outskirts of Duckburg, so he still did not know why his younger sister had surprised him with the work of caring for his son.

However, now that he was in it, he had no problem. Quackmore had insisted more with the respective care that a nine-month-old toddler needed, being very specific in watching him when he got him out of the cradle arguing that he was very fast when crawling, and being the overprotective father he was, he didn't want anything to happen to his duckling.

Of course, he had never felt so insulted to be considered unqualified to take care of a baby, but he could proudly presume that he did not cause him any altercation.

Literally. While he counted his coins, he occasionally watched the boy in the crib playing with his webbed feet, babbling with the pacifier in his bill or raising his hands towards the maritime mobile he had installed.

The older duck was smiling broadly when he saw his nephew so playful being commonly tantrum, and continued counting his coins, unaware of the bright and cheerful look that little Donald gave him, as well as his way of leaning on the mattress to try to put on foot.

"Three thousand two hundred and fifty, three thousand two hundred and fifty one..." A twitter was heard, and the Scottish duck smiled fondly. "Nae noo, Donnie. Yer Uncle Scrooge is very busy. Three thousand two hundred fifty two..."

Donald held the bars of the cradle while holding the pacifier and began to make small leaps, trying to get his uncle's attention with twittering and babble.

"Hmm!" He exclaimed, suddenly afraid that the elder could not hear him and kept trying to jump, trying to get out of the crib and make sure he was wrong.

However, that didn't seem to attract adult attention either...

"We can play as soon as Ah finish, just be patient."

...and being patient is the worst thing they could say him! Donald felt the urge to cry, extending both arms towards Scrooge, releasing the bars and falling on his bottom when his legs could not bear the sudden extra weight.

"Pa…!" He raised his voice as soon as he could, feeling the pacifier fall and starting to cry as a result.

That being how Scrooge felt the gears of his brain fail. Selfless if he lost count, he rose from his desk hastily walking through the study, leaning on his cane to avoid tripping.

His breathing had been cut for a second.

"…Wha' did ye say?" He questioned in a voice, baffled by the infant's outburst. He did not hesitate to release his cane to lean on the cradle and thus take him watching him kick. "Wha' did ye say, wee Donnie?"

He felt the rattling of his heart in his chest as soon as the duck's tearful gaze focused on him.

"Papa!" Tears bathed the child's yellowish plumage in a desperate call. As soon as he felt the warmth of his uncle, he clung to his coat while still crying. "Pa..."

Before he knew it, his body began to shake and he accommodated his nephew better on his shoulder.

"Nae, laddie, Ah'm not yer Papa," he spoke as he could, feeling a lump in his throat and his eyes beginning to cloud, leaning against the cradle. "Ah'm unkie. Unkie Scrooge."

"Papa," of course, a baby of Donald's age could not tell the difference between unkie and papa. And Scrooge was on the verge of crying.

Being the caretaker of his baby nephew, who had just said his first words, did not stop his paternal instincts from exploding.

Did he need anything? He questioned himself, holding the boy in his tushie and carefully moving his hand back and forth on his back.

Dirty diaper? No, without feeling it, he could have known, and not much had happened since the last change.

Hungry? Quackmore had been very specific in that his son became extremely demanding—and in other cases violent—, behavior he did not perceive in him.

Without moving Donald's body from his shoulder, he took his pacifier to bring it closer to his bill. Crying less, he accepted it without questioning.

He wanted to play? Peeking out, Scrooge saw his nephew's teddy bear, intact, next to his favorite little sailor hat. He commonly filled it with saliva, or required multiple walks to pick it up from the ground before one of his multiple outbursts of anger, which ruled out the possibility.

Did he miss Della? It would not surprise him. Both siblings were strongly united since their hatching: they bathed together, ate together, slept together, and didn't even accept a diaper change if they weren't together. They refused to leave each other's side when they perceived discomfort, and shared that inexplicable power of babies—or twins, he didn't know—of knowing what the other was saying despite babbling.

Maybe he should call Hortense?

"Awricht, Donnie, Ah need tae call me sister." Holding him carefully to perceive him calmer, he try to change his position, being taken off guard when the duckling exclaimed with discontent clinging back to his coat. "Wha's up, m'boy? Ye dinnae wan' tae talk wit' mommy?"

He carefully held the toddler's head, stroking his hair feathers.

"Ye dinnae wan' tae talk tae yer sister, nephew?" Analyzing the more relaxed behavior of the bairn, he took his cane again, grateful that the months and insistence of his sister and brother-in-law taught him how to deal with a baby in his arms.

"Papa," Donald stammered again. When he clung again to the warm body of his proclaimed Papa, the businessman could have sworn to feel tears beginning to form in his eyes.

Upon realizing, he soon dried them with a sleeve. As proud as he was to be present at the first words of his nephew, it causes a turn in his heart to be considered his father figure.

But he was tougher than the toughies, smarter than the smarties and sharp than the sharpies! He couldn't afford to cry about it.

"Ah knoo ye're aware tha' Ah'm not yer Papa, wee Donnie, but ye knoo? I's really an honor" observing the youthful, plump and tearful face of the wee one, he walked with his cane to his chair, sitting and leaning him on his lap so he could take out a handkerchief and remove the traces of tears and mucus. "Wai' ta see yer mama's reaction when she finds oot!"

Laughing with that comment, he smiled again affectionately when Donald laughed with him, clapping with innocent joy.

He charge the baby again at the height of his face by planting fast and loud kisses on both cheeks and stomach, satisfied with the laughter and babbling he cheered.

"Who's a big lad?" He exclaimed with clear pride as soon as he assured he was only accompanied by the duckling in the study. "Aye, ye…"

That Donald said his first words was a clear sign that his nephew was growing; having been present made him happy, but being in whom he saw a father figure touched him.

He was clearly a smart boy.

"Pa!" calmer, but especially happier, he kicked the air playfully, putting both hands on his uncle's beak. Scrooge allowed himself to smile kissing the palms of those hands.

So he just wanted to be with him? Well, in that case he wouldn't mind stop counting his coins if that meant spending quality time with his family, especially after discovering how loved he was.

Especially if there were no cameras nearby that compromise his image of the miser businessman.

"Do ye knoo, Donnie? Ye just became me a very prood unkie."

* * *

"I hope Scrooge could with Donald." Opening his wife's car door, Quackmore kept his gaze fixed on the sleepy Della he carried on his other arm, lulling her in his chest.

"Ye worry too much, honey. Thoogh not apparent, Ah knoo that Scroogey did a good job," said the red-haired duck, giving him a confident smile. Aye, her brother wasnae exactly the same bairn dedicated to his family as she remembered. But if he was the same bairn who took care of her in Glasgow when she was equal or younger than the twins, she knew he would be the same with _one_ of them.

"I insist we should take the boy too, how about he is sick?" Sensing how Della moved awkwardly in her father's arms, the duck cooed her gently, accommodating her in a more comfortable position.

Stroking the short hair of the duckling, she smiled warmly as they both started up the main stairs.

"It's Donnie we're talking aboot, dear. He would have made it known. Ye knoo he is more sensitive than her sister." Laughing without a mocking eagerness, she smiled amused.

Stopping, she adjusted her dress and knocked on the door a couple of times before continuing to appreciate her daughter, gently stroking her cheek in response to the soft exhaled whisper.

"Welcome, Mr. and Mrs. Duck." Looking up, the couple was greeted by a tall dog. "Next comes Master Scrooge. Let me take your coat."

Hortense smiled at the stoic appearance and monotonous tone of the butler, properly removing the garment and tending it with a smile and a gentle thanks.

"Thank you very much." Holding Della, Quackmore gave him a sly smile, settling beside his wife in the foyer.

Of course, the red-haired duck was ready to cheer her brother upon their arrival, but she repressed when the soft pounding and the sound of spat-clad webbed feet were heard in the upper hallway.

Slowly, Scrooge started down the rungs. In his free arm he held a sleepy Donald, curled up in his uncle's chest as he sucked his thumb.

"Hoo is Della?" He asked almost immediately, looking affectionately at his normally playful niece sleeping peacefully in his brother-in-law's arms.

"Fortunately, it's nothing serious." Approaching slowly, Hortense smiled sideways at the familiarity with which her brother carried the duckling. "She shoold only take medicine for a week. Wha' about ye? Donnie didnae cause ye much trooble?"

The older duck had to suppress a snort and a boastful smile, sitting on his armchair in front of the muted fireplace while listening to Duckworth continue his work in another room.

"If a diaper change counts as a problem, then aye," he carefully adjusted his nephew on his shoulder, keeping himself static when he felt him fit by holding his coat, voluntarily ignoring the warm look his sister gave him. "Still Ah need to learn his language, Ah'm surprised tha' ye knoo wha' they want without speaking."

For a moment he considered revealing that the lad had given his first words, but he preferred to see the expression of surprise that both could show when he woke up and talked to them. Of course, even if that meant listening to his sister's happy and tearful cries.

"It is a talent tha' improves with the months. That, 'n' the help books for first-time parents tha' Mama and Papa gave us as soon as we visited them at Dismal Downs when they were barely in the egg" explaining happily, Hortense covered his beak to suppress a tender sigh when she saw Scrooge holding Donald. It had been a long time since he last charged one of the twins.

On the other hand, the elder duck had to fight against his willpower so as not to smile fondly at the sensation of his nephew's calm breathing while happily sucking his thumb.

Smiling while playing with the bairn, listening to him say Papa again and again and chasing him every time he crawled away was one thing. But doing it in front of other people was the page of another book.

He had a reputation to keep after all, even in front of his own family.

"We can give ye a couple of tips if ye agree, Scroogey. That, if ye wan' tae take care of him another time. We could also bring Della," said the duck, smiling playfully, feeling Quackmore's incredulous look behind her.

Of course, Scrooge was about to argue with his younger sister. His expression changed, though, when he perceived Della starting to wake up, her sleepy and bright gaze focusing on him, raising both arms between happy babble, probably wanting to address her brother.

He looked at Donald again. He sucked his thumb more slowly, very deep in his rest after playtime to which he practically dragged his uncle, babbling between dreams and drooling on his shoulder.

In his innocent little face showed the apex of a smile; ignoring if he sensed the presence of his sister and parents, he constantly kicked.

That boy basically had an immense affection to consider him his Papa. And though he hoped that it would not affect the way he saw his true father, the image of that moment would be printed in his memories more than he wanted to be believed.

"Ye knoo wha'? Ah would really love it." Grinning, he carefully handed Donald to Hortense, looking directly at the joyful face of his sister, before kindly asking Duckworth for the duffel bag with the duckling's stuff.

Deep down, he hoped to be equally present in his first steps, ready to wrap him in his arms when he ran between wobbles toward him, hoping to be again the richest uncle in pride in the world.

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know how to write a paternal Scrooge McDuck without doing him OoC, help.
> 
> Also, I haven't been lucky enough to read the comics in which Donald and Della's parents appear, ergo could also make them out of character. Sorry, but I can't imagine them with the image of serious parents as seen in their photos in the DT reboot ):
> 
> Besides, wouldn't it be lovely if Donald got his overprotective instinct from his own father figure?


End file.
